


Better than Bond

by ApareciumTheAwkwardAuthor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Barebacking, DADA Professor!Harry, Drarry, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sex, M/M, Slow Sex, Smut, Sunday morning sex, mediwizard!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 02:06:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13988199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApareciumTheAwkwardAuthor/pseuds/ApareciumTheAwkwardAuthor
Summary: One Saturday evening while watching a film on the sofa, Harry makes a fascinating discovery: Draco really, really likes it slow.





	Better than Bond

**Author's Note:**

> Currently unbetad
> 
> Message me if you're interested in becoming my beta!

There really was no such thing as a day off during the school year. Now that he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, Harry was starting to realize that he’d been taking his teachers for granted far too much. It’s bad enough to be assigned a five foot essay on hybrid defense spells; it’s another thing entirely to have to grade a hundred of them.

It was almost worse for Draco. Harry couldn’t count how many times the man had been forced out of bed in the middle of the night over a bloody nose or a cold or a hex gone awry. In the end, Harry had stopped sleeping with him in the medward entirely, which meant that, since Draco couldn’t exactly leave his post to join Harry in his rooms, the only time they slept in the same bed was during holidays.

Their apartment in Hogsmead was small and comfortable. Draco had started renting it two years out of Hogwarts and had decided to keep it even though they were allowed to stay at the school over the breaks as well. “It’s nice to have a life outside of work,” was what Draco had said when Harry asked, and though he suspected that it was more of a fall-back in case he got fired -- Draco hadn’t exactly had an easy time of finding and keeping a job at first -- he decided not to say anything.

After all, even if it was an excuse, Draco was still right. Their little one-room apartment was the perfect summer hide-away. It was on the edge of town, warded and hidden from strangers, and close enough to the school that Draco could easily return in an emergency. The decor was a perfect blend of homey and stylish, with more muggle technology scattered around now that Harry was living there with him. Draco had argued a bit at first, claiming they were big and blocky and didn’t fit the style of his apartment, but now the blonde used them almost as much as Harry did.

In particular, Draco seemed to like the television, which was large and new and set up on the brick wall across from the dark grey sofa, with a shelf below it for their DVDs and the remotes. Draco was, Harry had quickly learned, tenaciously organized.

It was Saturday night two weeks into the summer holidays when Harry found himself laying across the sofa with James Bond playing for the hundredth time. Though they popped to London most weekends to rent something new, Draco had insisted on rewatching Golden Eye after Harry had corrected him when he had accidentally mixed up a quote that morning.

He didn’t mind, really. It was nice to watch something he didn’t need to pay attention to. It allowed him to focus instead on other things, such as the way Draco’s body was pressed along his.

They had started out sitting, Harry against the arm and Draco curled into his side, but had somehow ended up spooning within the first ten minutes. Harry had one arm draped over Draco’s waist, the other propping up his head, while Draco had one folded under his cheek and was using the other to gesture absentmindedly along with the film, little flickers of his fingers and twitches of his wrist that Harry was pretty sure he didn’t even realize he made.

One gesture had his shoulder coming into it, and Harry felt Draco’s shirt pull taunt under his palm; when he let up on the pressure, it rode up a few inches. Draco paused, clearly realizing, then huffed a contented little breath when Harry started to pet the bared flesh and went back to the movie.

Draco was pale and boney. Consciously, Harry knew that. He was a lot of sharp points, only somewhat smoothed out from their school days, and despite the fact that he had a bit of muscle to him now that Harry had convinced him to join him on morning runs before class started -- they had been evening runs before Draco came along, but the man was a morning person and they had compromised -- he was still mostly bone. Harry loved it, though, and tended to favor words like ‘milky’ instead of ‘pale’ and ‘lithe’ instead of ‘boney’. It was just one of those side effects of being in love, he thought, and he smoothed his hand fondly around the jut of Draco’s hip bone.

The blonde shifted slightly, inching down a bit. His shirt rode up further, making it hard to pay attention when he spoke. “Can you not see?”

“I’m watching,” Harry assured, and managed to keep his eyes on the screen for a whole three minutes.

He didn’t manage to stop the slow stroke of his hand. It trailed down over the flat of Draco’s stomach and Harry paused with his fingertips nudged between Draco’s side and the cushion to run his thumb through the course hair that trailed up from Draco’s sweatpants.

Muggle clothing. Just one more thing that Draco had taken to in the last few years.

Draco muttered a small noise which Harry took to be annoyance, but when he pulled his hand back a bit, Draco only grumbled more. The sound only petered off when Harry resumed the slow stroking of palm over flesh, and Harry turned his face into the arm of the couch to hide a grin.

“Pay attention,” Draco scolded instantly.

“I am,” Harry lied, and ran his hand up a little higher. His thumb tucked under Draco’s shirt and, when he didn’t seem to mind, moved further still. He flattened his palm at the center of Draco’s chest, pulling him a little closer, and when he spread his fingers, the tip of his pinky flicked over Draco’s nipple.

“Harry!” He was clearly trying to be scolding but his voice was just a bit too breathy for it to work.

“Sorry.” Another lie, and another grin hidden.

Harry did retract his hand, but only to smooth it down Draco’s thigh. The fabric of his sweats was thick and warm and slid slightly under Harry’s touch, making Draco shift a restlessly. He trailed as low as he could reach, then back between their bodies to rub his way back up. He stopped just under Draco’s ass, moving back to his side and petting his belly a few times before doing it again. He used a little more pressure this time, then more on the third pass, until he was slowly massaging his way from the back of Draco’s knee to right below the swellof his ass.

Draco turned his face into his arm to muffle a soft moan and hide his blush and Harry grinned. “Pay attention,” he echoed, and Draco groaned softly as he turned back to the screen.

“Stop grabbing my ass, then,” he returned, no bite to his words.

“I’m not,” Harry answered, and pointedly squeezed the top of Draco’s thigh. The gasp Draco let out at that was breathy and a little shocked, and Harry paused, surprised himself. Because that was the same sort of gasp that Draco tended to let out when Harry did something rather wicked with his tongue or on the first pass of questing fingers over that perfect spot inside him. Given that Harry was barely touching him, it seemed a little excessive.

Draco seemed to realize it too, and he buried his face once more. “Quit it,” he demanded, clearly embarrassed. “I can’t pay attention to the film.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, and he stopped. The last thing he wanted was to actually upset his partner, so he gently tugged the hem of Draco’s shirt back down and returned his arm to where it had started, draped harmlessly over Draco’s waist.

It lasted for about ten minutes. During that time, Draco grumbled and shuffled, adjusting himself more than once, and Harry made sure to keep his touches chaste as promised. Eventually, though, Draco groaned and shut his eyes, reaching up to rub at his face. His blush was always so prominent on such pale skin. “I can’t pay attention anyways,” he said, and Harry smiled, taking that as the permission it was.

“You should still try,” he suggested, mostly because he was starting to think Draco liked it that way. There was a challenge to it, but more than that, it allowed him to think of something other than just the touches Harry gave him, muting the pleasure slightly and letting it drag out even longer.

This time, Harry really did come up far enough to lay his palm over Draco’s ass, and the blonde gasped and twitched instantly. Harry shifted down a bit and lay his head down on a throw pillow so he could wriggle his now-freed arm under Draco’s side and use it to resume the slow stroking of his chest at the same time, occasionally flicking or tweaking a nipple as he slid over it, mostly to make Draco jolt and gasp.

By the time Harry actually reached around to cup Draco’s cock, there was a damp spot forming on his sweats, and Draco actually whined a bit at the contact, his boney hips jumping. “Shh,” Harry soothed, kissing the back of his neck. “There’s still at least twenty minutes left.”

Draco’s breath hitched; they both knew he wasn’t just talking about the movie.

Harry mouthed at the back of Draco’s neck, nosing at the close-trimmed hair on the base of his head. Harry had always figured he’d end up growing his hair long like his father, but Draco had done the opposite, keeping it short and stylish, and Harry found he liked it better this way.

“Fuck, Harry!” Draco gasped, and pushed impatiently back against him.

“Shh,” Harry reminded, and slipped his hand into Draco’s pants. The blonde nearly keened at that first touched of skin on skin, and Harry only gave him three slow strokes before moving on. Draco jerked and nearly sobbed as Harry cupped his balls, fingertips rubbing over his perinimum, then left him hanging to instead stroke and rub slowly at his inner thighs. The angle was a little tricky and he couldn’t reach as low, but it was worth it when Draco’s hand snapped up to clutch at Harry’s, their fingers knotting together at the center of his chest.

Harry hooked a thumb into Draco’s waistband and nudged it down a few inches. He pressed his own hips forward and, holy shit, he hadn’t even realized how hard he was. Apparently Draco wasn’t the only one turned on by going slow. Still, as much as he wanted to just yank Draco’s pants off and push into him, he waited, kissing his neck and asking, “okay?”

Draco pushed his hips back in return, but Harry nipped at his ear before demanding, “out loud.”

“Yes,” Draco gasped, voice tight with pleasure. “It’s okay, it’s good, really good. _Please_.”

Harry pushed his pants just low enough to uncover his ass and paused to stare a moment, enjoying the contrast of white skin against black fabric. Then, when Draco grew impatient enough to release his hand and smack his arm instead, he reached over the arm of the couch to blindly dig a small bottle of lube from the side table drawer.

Draco could take his fingers quickly. They switched positions often but the blonde’s body had always been a little more willing to stretch. Harry tended to require at least a minute or two between fingers, while Draco could take them one after the other with just a few thrusts to help him adjust.

Despite knowing how willing his lover’s body was, Harry still kept his slow pace, working one finger in until Draco was shoving back, demanding more, and even then he waited another minute before adding the second.

“Condom?” he offered, unsurprised when Draco shook his head and thrust back harder.

The first slide in pulled a moan from Harry and a sob from Draco. The blonde instantly tried to set the pace, pulling forward before fucking himself back hard, but Harry grabbed his waist and held him still, soothing him when he whined. He lifted Draco’s leg, pulling it back over his own to keep his lover open, then rolled his hips in slow, endless waves.

He shifted his hips a few times and knew he had found the right angle when Draco nearly choked on air and dug nails into Harry’s arm. He tried to move but Harry held him pinned, fucking him relentlessly.

“I want-” Draco gasped, and brought his free hand down towards his own cock.

“Can you go slow?” Harry asked. With a desperate little sob, Draco shook his head, too blissed out to even think about lying. “Then wait. Here.” Harry pulled Draco’s hand down and back, setting it on Harry’s hip, letting him feel the muscles bunch and release with each thrust, giving him a place to grip. “Finish the movie first.”

Draco grit his teeth but nodded, straining to follow Harry’s directions but knowing it would be better for both of them if he did. Harry gripped the back of his knee as the final scene played, bending and lifting Draco’s leg to deepen his thrusts as the helicopter dropped Bond and his lover into a field, and the second the credits began to roll, Draco’s hand snapped to his cock to fist it desperately.

He came in seconds, then draped bonelessly against the sofa as Harry sped up his thrusts, seeking his own end. “I-inside, or--?” Harry gasped, then groaned happily when Draco nodded and pushed back. He pulled Draco back by his hip and his chest and muffled a cry into his neck as he came, then flopped back, panting and just as wrung out as his lover.

Harry stayed inside well after his cock had softened, something he knew Draco enjoyed, then finally pulled away when the DVD looped back to the menu. The music was loud and out of place for the feel of the room and Harry found himself chuckling as he untangled himself from Draco and grabbed the remote to turn it off. His legs shook slightly as he put the disc back in its case and returned everything to where it was supposed to be.

Later, once they had showered and changed and snuffed out the lights, Draco had curled into Harry’s chest and frowned up at him. “I didn’t even get to hear the quote.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, not feeling sorry at all. “We can rewatch it next weekend.”

Draco paused, mulling that over, then shook his head and laid back down on Harry’s chest.

“No?” Harry confirmed. “Then, you want to rent something?”

“No,” Draco answered. “Let’s rewatch Braveheart.”

Harry frowned. “But you hate Braveheart.”

“I know,” came the reply, and Harry swore he could feel Draco blush and grin even through the fabric of his shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> All kudos are loved and all comments are read and adored!
> 
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